Sunday, December 5, 2010

They were fine at their early morning feeding, frisky, playful, lively, and they all ate well. I put them back in their box and checked, as always, that they had a good temperature gradient, from toasty warm to cool, so they could migrate to whichever spot suited them. And when I came back for the next feeding, all three of my baby deermice were dead.

?????

It just happens sometimes, for reasons nobody knows. It's part of what you have to be willing to take if you are a wildlife rehabilitator.

I've decided I don't regret any of the time I spent with them or the care I took or the sleep I lost. I loved every bit of it, and I loved them. And they had a good life, too, albeit short.

No comments, please. I know of your kindness and love and your prayers, and I thank you for them. But I really am not up to discussing it except with God. They're His mice. And it can't really be stupid to have loved them, since He does, even more.